Pumpkin Spice Cinnamon Roll
by Idlewild
Summary: A cat adopts Foggy during his first semester at Columbia. Things become more than a bit complicated when Matt gets involved.


Something silky soft slinking between his ankles makes Foggy look down from his book. The cat is a solid bright orange, all sleek fur and lithe movement, a reminder of the coming autumn. The fact that this may well be the last day of the year that Foggy can wear shorts while reading on a bench on campus just makes its arrival all the more symbolic.

'Hey buddy,' Foggy coos, reaching down to stroke it. The cat head-butts his palm, a purr already starting from deep within. 'You like that? Such a cute kitty. Where'd you come from, huh?' Foggy chats inanely to it as it keeps twining between his legs and wrapping its long slender tail around his wrist. Eventually he puts down his book so he can fondle it with both hands, and it jumps up next to him on the bench. It has a patch of white fur on its chest, but no collar or ear tattoos – and considering how starved for cuddles it seems, Foggy can only assume it must be homeless. Its deep amber eyes turn to delighted slits as he scratches it between the ears.

Two girls on roller skates swish past the bench, making "aaaw" noises at the cat, which tilts one ear in their direction even as its main focus stays on Foggy. It steps its front paws on his thigh, kneading it slightly, and he tries not to wince at the claws. Instead he holds his hand next to its whiskers and it rubs its cheeks on it. Then it raises its head and looks straight through Foggy, as though deep into his soul, before climbing further up on his lap to head-butt his face. Foggy makes a sound much like the ones those girls just made, he just can't help it. This is a good cat. Its purr is a deep rumble, somewhat incongruent with its small, nimble form, its fur is the softest thing Foggy has touched since his bunny Clover passed away four years ago, and oh dear god, it just lay down in his lap.

So now Foggy is on this bench with a rolled-up bun of fluff on his legs, and there is no way he's moving until the cat does. He picks up his book to resume reading, one hand moving through the autumnal fur, and the kitty just stays right there, purring like a tiny jet engine.

Not until it shifts and stands to stretch does Foggy even contemplate going inside. Two small paws dig into each of his legs and the back arches up under his nose before the cat steps down onto the bench to languidly stretch its back out. Foggy takes a quick peek at its bum and notes that it's a male. Most ginger cats are, anyway.

'Hey kitty, I gotta go home now. Some of us don't have fur to keep us warm, you know.' It's getting chillier by the minute, and Foggy could really do with some coffee and a hoodie right about now. 'Maybe I'll see you around, huh?' In response, the cat steps back on his lap to shove his face into Foggy's cheek again, then hops gracefully onto the ground.

Foggy pockets his book and walks off. The cat follows. Nay, _he_ follows the _cat_ _–_ because he has just trotted right past him, tail held high and twitching at the base in a most beckoning way. And even though he has somewhere to be – in bed, with a hot drink – Foggy keeps following. No questions asked. Soon enough, the cat has led the way to the campus chapel and jumped up into one of the niches in the burgundy brick wall. He sits there like he owns the place, tail coiled comfortably around his front paws, the picture of feline superiority. When Foggy leans over to pet him, he breaks out of his elegance slightly to sit up on his haunches and bop his head in Foggy's palm once more.

'See ya then, buddy,' Foggy says and starts for a coffeeshop. When he turns back towards the chapel not ten steps later, the cat has curled up in his niche and is grooming his tail. Foggy smiles and leaves.

* * *

Not much later, he is back in his room, carrying two overpriced lattes. Matt is on his bed, back against the headboard and eyes closed as he listens to something – probably a textbook – on his laptop. When Foggy greets him and shoves the door closed, he pauses the playback, pops the earphones out and puts his glasses on.

'Hey man, what's up?'

Foggy reaches the non-vanilla latte towards him. 'I bring coffee.' He nudges the back of Matt's hand with the paper cup.

Matt takes it with both hands, sniffing appreciatively. 'Thanks!'

'Guess what?' Foggy sits on his own bed, not waiting for a response before continuing. 'I met a cat. I think he lives at St Paul's; you'd like him.'

Matt huffs a laugh. 'What, because he's a Christian? Nah, I'm not too fond of cats. They tend to trip me up and I think I might be allergic.'

'Oh. Well, it was a nice cat, anyway. He used me as a bed. Guess my pudgy thighs are good for something!'

Matt laughs outright this time.

* * *

Over the course of the term, Foggy meets the cat more times and in more places than seems entirely plausible. He must have the entire campus as his territory, and now Foggy has apparently been incorporated in it. Several people he shares lectures with even ask if it's his cat after having seen him dashing up to Foggy for a casual cuddle multiple times.

One time, the kitty intercepts him and leads him to the chapel again, and Foggy has no choice but to sit on the freezing steps to pet him. The leaves around them now match his fur, which is going slightly bushier at the neck and tail as winter edges near. Foggy sips at his rapidly cooling seasoned latte, arguably the best thing about autumn.

'I think I shall call you Pumpkin Spice,' he tells the cat who is just rubbing himself behind Foggy's back, tail a moving belt around his waist before he climbs on his lap. 'Is that a yes?' Pumpkin Spice kneads his paws into Foggy's legs, clearly preparing them for use as a cushion. 'Oh, sorry, buddy, not today. I'll freeze to death out here and I have to go study.'

He stands up carefully, letting the cat step off him at his own pace, and gives him a final stroke all the way to the tip of his tail before speed-walking home.

When Matt gets in a while later, Foggy tells him, 'I named my cat.'

'It's not your cat, per se,' Matt states matter-of-factly.

'I know, I know. Tell that to him. I think he wants to adopt me. _He_ , not _it_. And his name is Pumpkin Spice now.'

Matt looks incredulous. 'That's a ridiculous name.'

'Is not.'

'Is so.'

'Whatever, dude, you've never met him. You don't get a say. It suits him. He's orange and warm.'

'If you say so…' Matt mutters, but a smile is teasing the corners of his mouth.

* * *

It gets steadily colder outside, the leaves now more the colour of Matt's hair than Pumpkin's fur as they gather in soggy piles along the campus paths.

'I haven't seen my cat in days,' Foggy complains to Matt as they're walking back from the library, arm in arm. 'Wanna swing by St Paul's and see if he's home?'

Matt shrugs. 'Sure, I guess. Do you really think he lives there?'

'I just hope he lives _somewhere_. I don't want him to freeze this winter.'

They walk all around the chapel, but Pumpkin Spice is a no-show. Foggy thinks he might be asleep in the pews, so they go inside where a priest is gathering hymnals from the latest service. Foggy asks her if the church has a cat, while Matt meanders off towards the altar.

'The ginger one?' the priest asks. 'No, he just hangs around. I don't know whose he might be.'

'If he gets cold, would you let him in?'

The priest just smiles. 'Oh, there's no "let" about it. He gets in. But if he'll catch some rats while he's here, I'm all for it.'

Foggy thanks her and does a sweep of the small church in search of his cat, still without luck. He finally ends up by Matt who is sitting right up front, head bowed. As Foggy draws up next to him, he looks up and gathers his cane, and they leave in silence.

* * *

The snow arrives in fits and starts as Advent advances. Matt starts going to church more often – his own church in Hell's Kitchen, not the campus chapel – and Foggy misses him in their room. One Sunday noon when Foggy comes home from buying bread and milk, Pumpkin Spice is sitting on the steps to the dorm, neatly licking his paws.

'Hey buddy!' Foggy stoops to pet him, and when he rises to go inside, the cat slinks in with him.

'No no no no, P.S., my roomie doesn't like cats! You can't be in here, we're not even allowed pets. You'll get hair on all our things and Matt will sneeze and oh, who am I kidding?' Because even as he says all of these things, he has already let the cat into their room. Pumpkin Spice sniffs around briefly, then jumps onto Foggy's bed to continue his interrupted grooming session.

'Okay, fine, I guess you can stay until he comes back,' Foggy says fondly before heading to the kitchen to make himself some sandwiches. He also brings back a saucer of tuna – Matt likes to put it on his pasta for whatever awful reason – even though he knows that doing so is a sure-fire way to garner him a second roommate.

'Hello, kitty, look what I got you!' Pumpkin hops off the bed with a series of very beseeching meows, ramming himself into Foggy's shins. 'Yes, okay, hang on… There you go. Don't tell Matt, I'll buy him new tuna. Man, how can you both even eat that? It _stinks_.'

The cat responds by gathering his paws further under himself to get as close to the fish as he can without actively sitting _on_ the plate. Foggy settles on his bed to eat. Once the saucer on the floor is licked spotless, Pumpkin joins him to sprawl out lazily along his hip, whipping his tail against Foggy's arm until he starts scratching him. He resigns himself to eating his sandwich one-handed, because cat trumps tidiness. The bits of cheese he drops somehow find their way into the kitty's maw.

'Right, Spicy,' Foggy says when lunch is over, 'this has been great and all, but my actual roomie might be back at any moment and your furry butt has to vacate the premises.' He grabs the cat around the middle, standing him on his chest and staring into those unguarded eyes. When Pumpkin starts to lie down on his belly, he wraps his arms around him and gets out of bed. He doesn't want to do this, but he can't keep the cat here. He tells him as much as he carries him downstairs and plunks him down outside the front door.

'Go home, buddy,' he sighs, closing the door between them.

* * *

Foggy has just managed to air out his duvet to hopefully get rid of any allergens when Matt gets back. His nose and cheeks are rosy from the cold and he sniffs the air.

'Sorry, yeah, the cat was here,' Foggy confirms. 'And sorry some more, because I gave him your tuna. I'll totally buy you more. I'll do it right now if you wanted to have it for lunch?'

Matt smiles at him as he hangs up his coat. 'It's fine, Foggy, I already had lunch.'

'At church? You were gone long today.'

Matt mumbles non-committally in that way Foggy has learned means he doesn't want to tell the truth but also doesn't want to lie.

'A girl?' Foggy teases. 'Did you lunch with a girl?'

Matt doesn't say anything, just smiles secretively, and Foggy takes that as confirmation.

* * *

Foggy spends Christmas at his sister's new place in Long Island. By the time New Year's Eve has come and gone, he's stuffed to the brim with food and sweets and familial niceties and wants nothing more than to go back and spend the last few days of the break in the relative peace and quiet of his dorm. He misses Matt, and even though Allie has two beautiful cats, he misses Pumpkin too.

Matt's face lights up as soon as Foggy steps through the door, and Foggy immediately drops his bags and sits next to him on his bed to wrap him up in a hug. This takes Matt totally by surprise, but he quickly relaxes and hugs back.

'You smell like fire and caramel and mint…' he mumbles into Foggy's hair. Then he winches slightly and pulls back, quite possibly blushing. 'Sorry, that just… that just came out.' He turns away, awkward, but doesn't go for his glasses, which Foggy takes as a major trust point. 'So. How was your break?'

Foggy accepts the subject change. 'Awesome, dude! Missed you too, though. Next year, you're coming with. I told them all about you… or, you know, I talked about you. When it came up. A lot. Anyway. Mom won't take no for an answer, so it's a Nelson Christmas 2011 for you and no getting outsies.' Foggy realises he's blabbing, having apparently picked up the proverbial torch of awkward from his friend. 'Anyway… how was yours?'

'Calm. Bit boring. Got you a late gift, though.'

'Me too! Plus I come bearing homemade edibles from at least four relatives, which you'll have to help me eat because A, I've gained quite enough weight this season already and B, I was _told_ to give 'em to you.'

Matt is grinning, and also blushing a little again. 'Wow, Foggy. Tell your family thanks from me. And do they really want me there?'

'Of course! My parents want to meet you, like, _yesterday_. They want us to come for dinner some day. Hey, have you seen Pumpkin Spice at all?'

Matt looks taken aback by the non sequitur and trips over his words slightly. 'Um, no, I… haven't really seen much of anything, you know. But I haven't heard any meowing or had any sneezing fits either, so…'

'Right. Sorry. Oh well, I'll go look for him later. But first presents!'

* * *

It's dark and snowing when Foggy makes it outside. He doesn't hold out much hope of finding his cat in this weather, but he goes to St John's anyway. It's closed and all the niches in the walls are empty, so Foggy takes his small bag of left-over turkey back with him. As he nears the dorm, Pumpkin Spice finds him instead. He is white in more places than his chest now, skinnier than Foggy remembers him, and just as happy to see Foggy as Matt was earlier. Foggy hunches to pet him, but he ducks away. Maybe petting will get the snow to his skin.

'I have Christmas dinner for you,' Foggy informs him. 'Let's go home and – oh, yeah, Matt's home.' He takes out his phone to get some roommate approval, but Matt doesn't pick up even on the second ring. By now, Foggy's feet are frozen solid and Pumpkin Spice has placed himself between them to use him as an umbrella. Foggy gives up.

'Okay. Come on then, kitty.'

They walk side-by-side to the dorm and up the stairs. Azlan from next door spots them and looks about to say something, but Foggy buys his silence with promises of jalapeño candied almonds and assurances that this is a highly temporary visitor.

'I think we're in the clear,' he tells the cat once Azlan has vamoosed. 'Now, let me just see if Matt's in before you – hey! I said wait. Dude.' Pumpkin is already on Foggy's bed, but Matt is gone from his. ' _Cat_. You think you're boss here? Because you're not. Matt's boss. I'm co-boss. You're just a ball of fur with teeth,' Foggy admonishes as he strips out of his winter gear and puts on sweatpants, but the furball doesn't even pretend to listen, too busy licking molten snow from his pelt. Foggy rolls his eyes at him.

After hanging his jeans up to dry in the bathroom they share with Azlan and Ravi, Foggy looks for Matt over in the kitchen. He's not there either, so he goes back home and kneels by the bed to feed his furry friend bits of turkey straight from his hands. The kitty purrs loudly between mouthfuls, rubbing his cheeks on Foggy's hands when he's not fast enough with the next bite.

When the turkey is all gone and Pumpkin is licking his neck ruff, Foggy tries Matt's cell again. It speaks up from somewhere inside the blanket on his bed. Oh well, if he comes home to a cat, at least Foggy _tried_ to warn him. Pumpkin Spice curls up on his legs as soon as he stretches them out on the bed, and Foggy strokes him while listening absently to podcasts. They sit like that for ages, only shifting a bit every once in a while.

The cat half-dozes in the nook of Foggy's crossed legs now, curled into a tight and vibrating ginger loop. 'You're such a little cinnamon roll,' Foggy tells him, 'all rolled up like that. Precious pumpkin spice roll. Yes you are. Good kitty. Cuddly ball of gingerbread fluff… oh man, what is it with cats and making me talk like an idiot? I'm glad Matt's not hearing this. Wait. Where is he, anyway?' It's ten to midnight and the snow is coming down in horizontal sheets now. 'Aw shit, he didn't get lost in the snow or anything, did he? God damn it!' The cinnamon roll in his lap sprouts claws at that. 'Ow! Seriously, you spend too much time in church, the both of you. Right, I'm going out looking for _him_ now.' Foggy lifts the devout ball of pain off himself and it burrows under the blanket, tail all bushed up.

When Foggy comes back from the bathroom in now-dry jeans, he stops dead, staring and sputtering.

'What – where – how did… Matt, _what_?' Because where there was a small lump of cat not a minute ago, there is now a larger lump of human. 'What are you _doing_? Where did you come from? Where's P.S.?'

Matt curls further in under Foggy's blanket at that, burying his head so only a tuft of hair can be seen. A perfectly _dry_ tuft of hair, which, just, _how_?

Foggy is getting mad now, mostly at himself for the absurd idea that just struck him – but also quite a lot at Matt, who is mumbling incoherently with his mouth covered by fleece.

'Dude, can you _please_ get out of there so I can _hear you explain_ what the hell is going on?' he demands. Matt groans audibly but emerges slightly from his nest.

'Look, Foggy, I just – I just didn't want you to, to, to go looking for me in this weather, okay, I'm sorry. I'll explain, but… could you maybe um, hand me some boxers first?'

Foggy stares some more, then stomps over to the chest of drawers and yanks a pair of green undies out. He flings them at Matt's face, but he snatches them out of the air before they make contact. He wrestles them on under the blanket and then slinks out from under it and over to his side of the room. And Foggy is so perplexed now that he has almost forgotten that he's pissed off, because his mind is going _nuts_ trying to come up with a reasonable alternative to his current frankly insane leading theory about all of this. He paces frustratedly back and forth a bit, to little avail.

'You never met him…' he whispers, mostly to himself.

Meanwhile, Matt has climbed under his own covers, knocking his phone to the floor in the process, and is now hugging his legs to his chest and looking nothing short of terrified. His eyes dart unseeingly all around the room without going anywhere near Foggy who is now stood near the door, his arms crossed tightly in an attempt to keep himself from blowing up with confusion and madness.

Matt starts a fitful explanation, stumbling over every word. 'Please don't be mad, Foggy, please, I _was_ gonna tell you, I should have, I wanted to tell you, I just, it's… you wouldn't've –'

'You're a _cat_?' Foggy interrupts. Matt flinches.

'Yeah, I'm – well, no, I'm a human, I just – I can –'

'Turn into a cat? Is that it?'

Matt is curled in on himself to the point where he looks like an actual cinnamon roll, now. 'I – yes. I'm s-sorry…'

'For what? For tricking me into _petting_ you? For lying to me? For being _naked in my bed_ with no warning? What?' Matt mumbles something and Foggy wants to shake him. 'What‽'

'I didn't lie to you,' Matt repeats, louder and with a certain defiance.

'Oh yeah? Well you sure as shit didn't tell me the truth either, did you?' Foggy's arms explode from their vice grip around his middle, flying into the air above his head. 'What the _hell_ , Matt?'

Matt whimpers and his face crumples and he mouths something into his knees. Foggy takes a few steps closer, nearly stomping and not caring one bit, and Matt curls impossibly tighter in his cotton cocoon. Foggy can still see his tears, though, and they make him deflate almost completely. Matt hardly notices. His voice quivers but he tries his hardest to speak clearly.

'This is why I didn't tell you. I wanted to… to _keep_ you. But I was gonna tell you, I really was. I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry_ , I was gonna tell you but I didn't know how. I thought I could trust you but I was still afraid you'd – Do you think I'm a freak?'

Foggy barks a laugh at that. 'Well, in a word: yes.' Matt's face twists again and he hides it under the covers. 'But Matty, I'm a freak too.' He sits carefully down at the end of Matt's bed. 'I used to hate it, but I've kind of come to terms – people used to call me freak, you know, growing up. And they were _right_ , and it _hurt_ , but I've come to terms with it, is what I'm saying. And you know what else? Non-freaky people are so boring.' Foggy smiles to himself, because he just recognised the truth of the matter. 'I'd rather be roomies with a non-boring sometimes-cat than a non-freaky always-human, okay?'

The lump that is Matt is shaking.

'Matt, you breathing in there?' And then Matt breathes, but in doing so, he also starts crying in earnest. 'Oh Matty, pumpkin pie, I'm sorry…' Foggy scoots nearer and puts a hand on one of Matt's drawn-up knees.

'Why are _you_ sorry?' Matt chokes out.

 _Oh man_. 'For yelling at you when you were just trying to open up to me. For making you think I was gonna abandon you over this. And for making you _cry_ , okay?'

Matt sniffs.

'Can I hug you?' Foggy asks tentatively. 'Or would you rather I pet your hair?' he adds to maybe lighten the mood.

Matt half-laughs, then pops his head out to wipe his face on a corner of his sheets. His hair is dark chestnut (and currently extremely tousled) and his eyes are so brown they're nearly black (and currently watery and red-rimmed) but somehow there is ginger and amber in there as well. Foggy stares.

'Hug,' Matt says. So Foggy moves up next to him by the headboard and pulls him close, bedclothes and all, and Matt nuzzles his face into his neck. A very cat move, that. He slowly dislodges his arms from within the blanket and puts them hesitantly around Foggy.

'It's okay, Matt,' Foggy says, and Matt tightens the embrace.

They sit like that for a long time, and for some reason Foggy starts stroking Matt's hair despite his current human appearance. Matt doesn't purr, but he does make occasional humming noises. Eventually Foggy's curiosity wins out and he lets go of Matt to voice it.

'Can I see?'

Matt takes a while to respond. 'What?'

'Can I see you turn into a cat? I mean, that is _so cool_ , how do you do that?' Excitement is taking over. Excitement is Foggy's default setting. Brooding is Matt's, so naturally he is a little baffled by this about-face.

'I don't know. I just do it?' he says, frowning.

'So you're like a mutant then?'

'I guess? You know, I _was_ splashed with radioactive waste as a kid; weirder things have happened, right?'

'Yeah, at least you don't turn into a giant green rage monster. Like I just kinda did.' Matt smiles weakly. Foggy grins. 'So, can I see?'

Matt sits up straighter and takes a deep breath. 'I dunno, it's hard when I'm… I need to be focused, like meditation, and right now I'm just…' He shakes his head.

'Upset. I know. It's fine, you can do it some other time.'

Matt ducks his head. 'Okay.'

They sit in silence for long minutes. Then they both speak up at once, breaking off with matching snorts.

'Sorry, you go first.'

'No, it's okay, you first.' Foggy's question is probably dumb anyway.

After a beat, Matt lifts his chin in Foggy's general direction in that endearing way he has when he's really focusing. 'So you're not angry anymore, then?'

'Nope. Okay, I could probably work up some anger if I started thinking about it… like, I mean, _allergic_ to cats, Matt, _really_?'

Matt fiddles with the hem of his duvet cover. 'I am. Slightly. To normal cats. When I'm human.'

'Huh. That sucks, dude. Okay, so maybe you didn't lie, but you, I dunno, you _cuddled_ me! And I get it, I'm extremely cuddle-able, case proven, but still. Why? You could have just… asked? You know, with your voice.'

Matt shrugs. 'That would be weird.'

And yeah, he has a point. Guys don't generally just cuddle with their friends – unless one of them is crying, apparently. But if Matt was so desperate for cuddles, there is surely no shortage of girls (and guys for that matter) at this university who would gladly oblige. On the other hand...

'Weirder than turning into a cat behind my back?'

'… no?'

'No. But I'm not angry. Right now, I'm just majorly curious. And amazed. I have _so many questions_!' Matt makes a face that plainly says, "please, not now," so Foggy takes pity on him. 'But I'm gonna ask just one. Are you-as-a-cat still blind?'

'Yes.'

'Even the whole catty night goggle thingie?'

'Foggy. My eyes don't register _any light_ , okay? My cat eyes are no different.'

Foggy huffs. 'Oh, they're a little different. They're amber, for one.' Matt just shrugs. 'Wait… you didn't even know what colour your fur is before I told you, did you?'

'I just… kind of always assumed I was black…'

Foggy looks him straight in the eye and solemnly says, 'Black cats mean bad luck. You are no black cat, Matty. You're my good luck charm!" His solemnity falls away halfway through that as he breaks out grinning. Matt swats him on the shoulder with a pffft-ing sound.

'Okay, but seriously. Follow-up: What about your other senses?' Matt flinches slightly. 'I mean, cats have much better ears and noses than humans, yeah?'

'Yeah, my… my other senses are incredible,' Matt mutters, and Foggy gets the feeling that this is a bad path to continue down right now. Another subject change is due. More enthusiasm, coming up.

'But this is epic, though!' Foggy has only now fully realised the implications. 'I can actually have Pumpkin Spice as a roommate and no litter boxes or housing regulation breakage need be involved!'

'… please don't call me that.'

'Well, can I call you Spicy, at least? Or precious cinnamon roll? Gingersnap?'

'Foggy…' Matt is blushing yet again, adorably.

'All right, fine. I'm okay with being the only one with a stupid nickname.'

Now Matt grins at him. 'Thank you,' he says, and Foggy briefly hugs him again.

Matt sighs deeply, then disentangles himself from his blanket nest. He shuts his eyes, breathes slowly, and… _shrinks_. Amber eyes with oblong pupils face Foggy. Bushy tail wraps around sharp-clawed paws. And Foggy gapes in fascination, because this is _Matt_.

'Matt the cat.' He doesn't realise he said that out loud until a quick paw whacks him on the wrist. And then Matt walks right on over to Foggy to curl up in his lap. Weirder things have happened.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This was just a tiny plot kitten that totally got away from me. And I have so many headcanons to go with it, so please tell me yours in the comments! Like where does Matt change/hide his clothes? How did he discover this ability? What happens if he falls asleep as a cat? How easily can cat!Matt communicate with humans? And with real cats? So many questions!_

 _At any rate, I hope you enjoyed my sudden trip down Shapeshifter Lane – and as always, thanks ever so for reading! ^_^_

 _This has been beta'ed by the ever-amazing thuviel. Thanks, mate! Not sure I would have dared post this without you. _


End file.
